Shadows of Darkness Ascending
by ScarletDeath7
Summary: It had been 25 years since the blight was ended, or so it was thought. A dark ritual preserved the soul of the Old God, and with his return came a rein of horror. Only one born of Grey Warden blood can stop him. Rated M for violence and suggestive themes
1. Intro

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Dragon Age or any aspect of the series or any related characters, locations, plot points, etc. I am simply borrowing them to string from the rafter so I can make them dance the horrific dance of Shadows of Darkness Ascending. Poor fellas.

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Intro

There I stood before the great Old God, all power and strength radiating from his human embodiment. I heard him though no words escaped his lips; I sensed him, felt him with in my own blood. His voice, his song, called to me like a lover's serenade. He may have taken the form of a man, yet this beautiful creature was anything but human. To name him an abomination would be too kind, though no abomination had ever appeared so stunning.

Brilliant locks of his strait blonde hair fell loosely in front of his warm golden eyes. An unwavering seductive smile graced his handsome, lightly tanned face. He donned radiant white steel armor engraved with intricate enchantments. Though it hid the masterpiece beneath, I questioned not the perfection of his flawless, toned body. It whispered of desires of the flesh and promised not to disappoint. He left me unsteady and unsure.

Was I afraid? In truth, I was terrified, but not of him. No, what truly made my blood run cold was my own desire. Never before had I quested for power or strived for fulfillment. The foreign need was rampant and unyielding, threatening to consume my conscience. When he spoke the words, the promises, I craved them as though they were the very air I breathed. I craved him, and for the first time even, I knew not what to do.

The grip I held on my staff tightened, but it did little to focus my mind. All I could hear was the soothing melody of his voice in my head, a song more beautiful than the ears could ever hear. It was both mesmerizing and paralyzing, but I wished it never to end. I didn't want to fight it; I just wanted it to be, to live within me as it did now. There existed in it a pleasure like no mortal had ever felt, and I wanted to keep it.

He moved close to me, very close, and though my lungs seized in panic, my body refused to retreat. His fingertips left a tingling trail along the heated skin of my cheek and I shuttered without control. The scent of his skin was richer than ambrosia and beckoned to me with need. I remained frozen, unmoving as he descended on me, pressing his full, soft lips against mine.

What followed was a blissful peace like nothing I had ever felt. Everything around me was gone. The world, my world, disappeared into nothingness. That which I once valued was now meaningless. The wars, the blight, they mattered to me no longer. All I wanted was to hold on to that empty peace, to never let it go, to never let him go.

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A/N: So I have gone back to rework the other chapters... The characters will remain the same, but I just wasn't happy with how things were flowing... I hope to have a few of them back up by the end of the day and hopefully a new chapter soon. Thanks for your patience and for reading.


	2. Tower Life

Tower Life

"Andreina," she called from across the great hall. I tried to ignore her, pretending not to hear my name escape her flapping jaw. I should have known better. Ignoring her was like trying to complete the Harrowing all over again, only I'd probably have better luck in the Fade.

"Andreina," I heard her call once again, this time her voice was right over my shoulder. Maker, she moved fast. Had I been thoughtful, I would have taken my leave sooner and avoided the annoying chit all together. Of course it was my luck that I'd be distracted by that damned chatty elven apprentice again. She probably put him up to it just to ensure I'd still be here. I wouldn't put it past her.

Pushing my irritation aside, I plastered on my friendliest smile and turned to face her. "Lavera," I beamed, tying to seem pleasantly surprised by her presence, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Is it too much to enjoy words between friends?"

Friends; how laughable. We were as much friends as Andraste was with the Tevinter Imperium. She was up to something; I could hear it in her tone. "Why, of course not; I merely assumed you had more important things to attend to at the moment."

"Alas," Lavera sighed over dramatically, "that is usually the case. However, for you, I've managed to pull away for a moment. I feared, though, that you might escape me this time, fore when I called to you my voice seemed to fall on deaf ears," she added lifting a dark brow questioningly.

"Oh, don't be silly," I said, waving off whatever notion was in her empty head. "As of lately, I often find myself lost in my own thoughts."

"Of that I am sure," she agreed, to my irritation, knowing it was the journey ahead of me that kept me preoccupied. "Nevertheless, it seems you're just as distracted by a certain apprentice who seeks your attention."

Just as I figured, she had put him up to it, if only for her little game. Oh how I despised such foolery. Lavera hails from a village at the west edge of Ferelden. Her parents, once nobles in Orlais, had to flee when rumor of their daughter possessing magic created a family scandal. It was still not enough to keep Lavera from Templar reach, though, and soon she joined the rest of us. Even though, in the circle, mages are deemed equal to one another, Lavera still fancies herself nobility, and, like many other noble women from Orlais, she likes nothing more than to continue her ridiculous form of entertainment. When there is no interesting gossip, she creates it herself. Generally I ignore this behavior to the best of my ability. Lately, however, it has been at my expense, or so she's attempted, and I'm less than impressed.

"Worry not, although his presence is a welcomed enjoyment, it will not deter me from the task that awaits me."

I watched as she cast her gaze to the ground. It was very unlike her to do such a thing, but I waited to hear what she would say.

"That is a bit disappointing. I was rather hoping you'd have some interesting stories to share about him."

I smiled softly for her benefit, while I laughed inside at her blatant displeasure. Watching her hide the frustration brewing beneath the surface for not having her way was surprisingly satisfying.

"Not to dishearten you further," I added, "but there won't likely be any stories regarding him anytime soon. As adorable as he is, I have much bigger things on my mind." Such as the templar outside my room that'd I'd never speak to her about.

When she finally looked at me again, her smile appeared forced. "Very well then," she continued, "I best be getting back to those requiring my attention. Do enjoy your trip outside the tower. It will make you the envy of every mage in the circle."

I didn't doubt those words for a second. Most mages of the circle would saw off their own leg for a day of freedom, and here I was just short of being tossed out the door. In truth, I would probably be better off out there anyway. As much as I like my home now, relating with the other mages is difficult. Thanks to an unlikely, nearly impossible, heritage, I have what's been referred to as "special" blood. I know very little about it other than it's a result of my mother being a Grey Warden and I wasn't expected to live to see my adult life. Nonetheless, here I am, and my fate has been decided. I have been given the privilege of traveling to Amaranthine to work directly with the Wardens. It may not be the most desirable assignment, but at least it would be a change of scenery.

My relief was nearly palpable as Lavera walked away down the hall. I'd successfully managed to dodge another one of her attempts to put me at the center of her amusement. She was one of the people determined to use my bloodline against me. Every opportunity she found she would try to make my life a noble's version of hell. If it wasn't bad enough that people feared me for what I was, she was insistent on dragging my personal life out in the open as well. Being free of her would definitely be something to celebrate.

I was almost happy, for a change, when my room came into view. Unlike the other mages, I had my own person quarters, complete with guard and all. It was no privilege, however, but rather a precaution. Although I've never shown signs of blood magic tendencies, everyone worries that my "special" blood could make me more susceptible to demonic possession. I honestly feel it does the opposite, but my opinion on it mattered not.

As I approached, the templar outside my door gave me his usual playful smile.

"How's the most beautiful girl in the tower?" he asked flirtatiously, forever trying to raise my spirits.

"I'll let you know should I ever meet her," I teased him in return.

The templar's name was Erik. He'd been my guard for the past four years. Upon turning eighteen he was sent to serve at the tower, then immediately assigned as my guard, replacing the one I'd lost to lyrium deprivation. It was for the better though, Erik, after all, was much more fun, and far more attractive than my last templar. He wore his dark hair fairly short, often keeping it in perfect disarray. His smooth skin was only slightly tanned since he spent less than a few hours a day outside of the tower. Under his armor were strong muscled arms and a perfectly toned abdomen. He was surely a specimen of beauty. Sometimes I even forgot that he was templar; for that matter, I think he even forgot a time or two as well. Then again, I suppose it's easy to forget once you've sampled the finer points of a mage's talents. If Lavera ever got her hands on that little bit of information I fear her head might explode, which may not be a bad thing.

"You know the best part about this job?" he asked, probably still teasing me.

"Let me guess, the part where you get to wear pretty armor and carry a big shiny sword?"

"I'd say that's the second best, runner up only to how I get to stare at you all day and no one questions it since it is my duty to keep an eye on you."

I smiled at his attempt at flattery, giving him one of my usual sarcastic responses.

"Funny you should say that because anyone else would look away for fear that a demon might burst from my chest."

He laughed at my blatant jest of how others viewed me. "Oh, Maker, how I'm going to miss this," he said, still smiling. I had to agree with him, things had been good between us.

"I'm honestly surprised they're not sending you with to babysit me."

"Yes, because your father would really approve of that," he added with his own sarcasm.

"My father rarely approves of anything," I added in slight frustration.

In addition to being a Grey Warden, my mother was also a mage. My father on the other hand was a templar, and currently serving as the Knight-Commander of the circle. From the moment he laid eyes on Mother when she was still an apprentice at the tower, he was desperately in love with her. For years he struggled between his heart and his duty. They were together for a time following the end of the blight, but I don't think he ever fully trusted her. He even left Ferelden in an attempt to escape the situation, or perhaps to escape his feelings. Either way it mattered not, he returned to Kinloch Hold soon after the Kirkwall rebellion. Of course by that time I was already well integrated into the circle of magi and my Mother was neck deep in Grey Warden issues.

I remember when I was young she once told me that some things were destined and unchangeable. One cannot chose to be male or female, human or elf, to possess magic or not, and most of all one cannot choose who they fall in love with. At the time I thought the fates were cruel, but she always said it was a gift, not a curse, to love someone, whoever they may be. I'm finally beginning to understand that.

"He's right, you know, about mages and templars. No matter how many times I tell myself that I'm protecting you, the fact is I'm only keeping you prisoner. I mean, we hunt and kill mages to defend and protect the innocent and defenseless. What if one day I'm sent to hunt you down?" he asked, his usual playful nature yielding to his true concern.

"I'd rather it be you than someone else," I admitted openly.

"I'd rather it be anyone else, Andreina."

I put my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "You have nothing to worry about," I assured him, "I stand with the circle. Forbidden magic is forbidden for a reason and I would never use it. I follow the rules."

"Not all the rules," he commented mischievously, placing his hands on my waist and pulling me close.

"That goes for you as well," I smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

The moment was interrupted by the sharp sound of the Knight-Commander clearing his throat. I pulled away and immediately stepped back.

"A word, Andreina," he ordered, pulling me aside, making sure to give the dark-haired templar a warning glare. Erik scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed; knowing all he had to look forward to was long lecture on appropriate conduct.

Once in his office the Knight-Commander released me. I doubted a lecture was previous in store, but after the blatant display of affection between myself and a templar I would be lucky to leave the office alive. The only consolation was that it would be my last lecture on the subject.

"How many times do I need to tell you, Andreina? You need to stay away from that boy; he's a templar for Maker's sake."

"There's nothing to worry about, he'd never hurt me," I argued.

"It's not just you I'm worried about. Your relationship is highly inappropriate. This boy has taken vows. You put him in a place where he must choose between his duty and his desires. It's not… good for a person."

"He's not you," I made sure to point out for what felt like the millionth time. "I don't know what he did before he became a templar, but he's no innocent little chantry boy. I understand that what happened between you and Mother was very painful, but it's not like that with me and Erik. He's all I have and you know it."

I didn't think until the words were already out, instantly regretting what I had said. I'm sure it cut him deeper than he showed. The man was a stone wall and cold as ice when he needed to be, but in truth, he'd always been there for me when no one else had been. I was all he had left.

"I'm sorry," I apologized calmly, knowing what I said was unfair. "You are right. I have no business fraternizing with the templar. I will no longer put him in an immoral position."

"Thank you, not that it really matters much since you're leaving this afternoon. I honestly contemplated sending him with you, but I don't feel any good would have come of it. You'll be too busy with the Wardens and I need Erik at the tower. I'm thinking of appointing him my successor, but he has a lot to learn still."

"That's wonderful news," the sincere excitement in my voice surprised me. I was very happy for Erik and it was almost a relief to know he wouldn't be sent out to hunt mages.

"Now, about this afternoon, there will be two Grey Wardens arriving to escort you to Vigil's Keep." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "They are not just for your protection. I'm well aware you think you can take care of yourself. The escorts are to appease the authorities. You know I can't send a mage out wandering on her own without repercussion."

This time I nodded in understanding. I knew too well how people reacted to mages. If escorts would help keep the peace then so be it.

When I looked up again at the Knight-Commander, I noticed for the first time how his age really showed through. Bits of grey accented his once vibrant red hair and his expression was tired and worn as he sat contemplating something. With a sigh, he smiled slightly. "You'll be gone a long time, Andreina, and I can't promise things will be the same when you return. As much as I hate to advise it, for a number of reasons, I think it best if you remain with the Grey Wardens from now on."

Sadness came over me; mostly because I knew what he said was true. Despite efforts to keep the peace from both sides, there were fanatics who continued to push things too far. Returning to a decimated tower wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

Sensing my grief, he grabbed my hand and managed a weak smile, "Of course you know I'll always be here for you if you ever need anything; and you'll always be welcome back here."

His words helped even if it was only a little. I gave him a smile of his own before moving toward the door. As I left he called after me, "And for the love of the Maker, behave yourself for the Wardens."

"I will, Father," I promised.

With another sigh, he hugged me, for what could be the last time, before sending me out of the office.

I'd be going off on my own for the first time ever, and I had to admit, I was more than excited about it.


	3. Fresh Air

A few hours later marked the arrival of the Grey Wardens. Despite my impatience, it was all too soon. I wanted to go, yet I doubt I'd ever be truly ready to leave. Of course destiny had little time to wait around for me. I'd be going whether I was ready or not.

I hadn't met either of the wardens who entered through the large set of doors blocking the outside world. Part of me was hoping to see the mage I had met years ago. At the time he was delivering a lecture on something called the Architect, yet I was still too young to attend. I recalled hearing rumors of how he'd escaped the tower seven times before becoming a Grey Warden. Whether it was true or not was beyond me. Before he left, though, he taught me a few healing spells, that much I remember well. He had said he could sense me, very much like he did the other Wardens, only it felt different. I could tell he wasn't like the other mages either, but having never met another Grey Warden I had nothing to compare him to. That strange sense of knowing returned as the two armor clad men approached.

"Wardens," I welcomed them sincerely, extending my hand, "I'm Andreina."

The tall man wearing chainmail with a griffon engraved on the front shook my hand. His dark, disheveled hair fell into his eyes as he gave me a weak smile. I could tell he was weary from their travels and just being polite at the moment.

"Carver," he offered in response, "well met."

Next to him stood an elf with long chestnut hair, garbed in heavy expensive armor. He must have been strong for an elf to support its weight. Strapped to his back was a Silverite long sword with elaborate engravings and strange enchantments, accompanied by a Dragonbone shield that bore the heraldry of the Grey Wardens. His arms were crossed sternly over his chest and a smug, if not bored, expression colored his face. It was obvious he'd rather be elsewhere.

"My apologies," Carver cut in when he saw I noticed his companion. "This is Firyn. He's only been a Grey Warden for a few months, but he's proven most capable."

I smiled politely and addressed the armor clad elf, "a pleasure to meet you, Firyn." He nodded his head in response, but said nothing, his expression unchanging. It seemed he was going to be a difficult one. This would surely be interesting.

"Anyway," the taller man chimed in, breaking the awkward silence, "where can I find the Knight-Commander? I'd like to speak with him before we depart for the keep."

"He's currently in his office as usual. Just follow the path around and he'll be in the last room to the right of the main corridor."

Carver nodded and made his way in the direction of the Knight-Commander's office.

Silence enveloped the room once again. Firyn leaned against the dull stone wall next to me. I could sense the taint in his blood the same as I could with Carver and the mage I had met previously. Everything I'd read about the Grey Wardens was so far proving to be true. Though nothing I read explained why everyone was so afraid of me. Wardens conceiving children may have been unlikely, but surely not impossible. Perhaps when we got to the keep someone would have some answers for me.

I glanced at the elf beside me. His face was unreadable as he stared at a white stone statue of Andraste in the distance. If anything, he seemed uncomfortable here. I didn't know if anything I could say would help him relax, but it was worth a shot.

"Do you have any thoughts on the Bride of the Maker?"

"No," was his only answer.

I guess I wasn't all that surprised; he was an elf after all. Most didn't follow what was taught by the chantry. His mannerisms were quite different from the elves that I had met and he had tattoo unlike anything I'd seen before, which probably meant he wasn't from the city.

"You must be from one of the Dalish clans," I stated confidently but friendly.

With his expression more grim than before he turned to me, "that is a bold assumption. What brings you to that conclusion?"

"Your intricate facial tattoos for starters."

"Do your local elves not have tattoos of their own?"

"None that I've actually seen," I told him. "However, even if they were a common sight, you are far too strong to pass for an elf from the alienage by any means."

The elf smirked slightly, but it wasn't a happy gesture. "You're a very observant human for being locked away in a tower you're entire life." His words hinted at distain, but I pushed them aside. It was no use fighting with someone I'd be traveling with for a while. Trying to get to know him would be the better of the options.

"How were you recruited to the Grey Wardens?" I asked him curiously.

He contemplated a moment before answering, "Let's just say they offered me something I couldn't say no to."

I raised my eyebrow in wonder, "and what exactly was that?"

"The chance to avenge my family," a touch of sadness colored his words.

I questioned what could have happened to make this young man so bent on revenge that he would risk his life becoming a Grey Warden. "What happened to your family?"

"It's none of your concern, Mage," he barked out.

Judging by the bitterness in his tone, I gathered he wasn't very fond of magic. The question was, why? Surely he must tolerate any mage who had become a Grey Warden, or perhaps he didn't. Either way, I was more determined than ever to find out this man's story. It was a long trip to Amaranthine and I'd have plenty of time to poke and pry at him.

"Fair enough, it is, after all, your burden to carry and I cannot force you to share it. Though, if you would oblige me, may I ask what skills you possess?"

Firyn laughed, somewhat morbidly, to himself, "A mage inquiring as to my skills? Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"It's not an outlandish request," I argued, "We will be traveling together for a time, after all. The more I know of your fighting style, the better I can work with you, should I need to, in battle."

He must have decided I made a valid point because he finally opened up a little. "In my clan I was trained as a Guardian. Since becoming a Warden I've also become a Champion of Highever. I'm skilled with weapon and shield; preferably swords, however I'm not beyond using waraxes or even a mace. Is there anything more you must know?"

The annoyance in his voice told me not to ask, but I couldn't help myself. It was the question I'd wanted to ask since I set eyes on him. "Where is your armor from? It's absolutely beautiful."

A look of puzzlement replaced the one of irritation he'd shown moments before. "Of all things, you want to know about my armor?" I nodded enthusiastically and he rolled his eyes, but still answered. "It's very old elven armor passed through every generation of my family. It's enchanted with special runes for protection. There have been many occasions where it has saved my life."

"Fascinating," I whispered, just short of drooling now. I've always adored armor. Perhaps it is because I cannot wear it, or maybe I just get distracted by how shiny it is. Either way, there's nothing better than a beautiful set of armor, especial when there's a handsome man to go with it. It might be part of what made the templars so damned attractive.

In that moment Carver returned. His stance appeared unchanged from when he left. Usually that's a good sign. Not many people who go in to speak with the Knight-Commander leave in a good mood. It must have been an uneventful conversation.

"If you two are ready, we best be on our way. There's a lot of ground to cover between here and Amaranthine."

"Then let's be off," I said smiling as I secured my pack in place at my side. As we left the tower, I waved good-bye to the entrance guards I knew so well. Leaving was not as easy as I'd imagined, but I managed it without betraying my emotions. At the dock, a young templar waited with a boat to take us across the lake. As we crossed the water, I watched the tower become more and more distant. Though I'd been outside the tower before, seeing it from here was like seeing it for the first time. I never realized how big it was until now, or how foreboding it appeared. Even in the afternoon sunlight the stone structure looked threatening. It truly resembled the prison most thought it to be.

I was glad when we finally reach the docks. Having my feet on solid ground again was comforting. I'd long since stopped staring at the tower, the more I had watched it the more I began to resent it. Tasting the fresh air and feeling the damp earth beneath my feet gave me a sense of freedom I didn't know existed. Finally I understood what I was missing all these years.

"Let's make a stop at the tavern before we continue," I heard the man beside me say.

"Ready for a drink so soon are you?" I asked him jokingly.

"A pint of ale isn't a bad way to start a journey, however there's something I need to pick up, and a bit of food would do us all some good."

That was something we could all agree on. Firyn was happy to throw back a pint as he and Carver laughed at my attempts to choke down my first taste of ale. How they drank that stuff was beyond me. Luckily the food was rather pleasant, much better than the gruel they served us at the tower. I hadn't realized how bad it was until now, having just tasted how delicious real food could be. It was hard to believe I'd lived on that slop for so long.

Before we left I saw Carver take a package from the bartender. It was in the shape of a flat rectangle and wrapped in brown paper. How he managed to fit it in his pack was beyond me.

We traveled until sunset before setting up camp. The men were quite efficient, likely from many years of traveling the country side. I, on the other hand, had trouble even getting my tent to stand. Having never been outside the tower, I was completely hopeless. When my tent fell in on me for the third time, Firyn finally came over to assist me. He didn't smile or even pretend to be friendly; instead he looked annoyed, as he usually did with me.

"Here, it goes like this," he explained, pointing out to me the way things went together, "and this goes in there." Rather than do it himself, he patiently walked me through it so next time I could do it myself. When the tent finally stood strong on its own, I thanked him.

"I only helped you because your pathetic efforts were irritating to me."

"Your reasons matter not, I am still thankful for your assistance."

Firyn walked away wordlessly and sat near the fire. I wanted to follow, asking a million questions of him, but I refrained. Now was obviously not the time, I needed to gain his trust if he was ever going to open up to me. Instead I found Carver cleaning and polishing bits of his armor, and sat next to him.

"Have you any idea what is planned for me at the keep?" I asked, trying to sound hopeful.

Watching his reflection in one of the shiny gauntlets, he let out a feeble sigh. "It's hard to say at this point. No one's really sure what to make of you. I figure they'll do some tests, probably with your blood, but nothing that would put you in danger; you are the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden after all."

I never really liked that title. It had a tendency of getting me in unwanted trouble. Over the years I've heard my share of rumors about the Hero's daughter. A group of enchanters even tried to have me killed, claiming I was born an abomination and needed to be destroyed. Thankfully my father and the First Enchanter would never allow it. I've never shown signs of harboring any demon and therefore would not be exterminated. Good for me, I suppose. However, people still feared me, which is why I spent so much time locked away on my own.

Now here I was, free under the stars, ready to take on whatever fate handed me. Hopefully. So long as death wasn't in my future.

"Why don't you get some sleep for tonight?" Carver suggested. "We have a long way to travel tomorrow."

"Right you are," I agreed before crawling into my tent. The ground beneath me was stone compared to my soft bed at the tower, and the flimsy fabric of the tent did little to hold in any heat. Yet, I reveled in it. It may have been uncomfortable, but it was the discomfort of freedom. I was learning fast what beckoned so many of us to be free of the circle. If things continued this way there was a good chance I wouldn't want to return to the tower. Only time would tell.


	4. Fear

"_I'm waiting for you Andreina," he whispered to me softly. Somehow I could still hear his feather light voice though he stood some distance away from me._

"_I know, you tell me that every time, but I don't know who you are." I watched him with confusion, yet his smile never faded._

"_You'll find out soon, though I can't wait much longer. You must come home." He spoke as though we were old friend, as though everything he said should make perfect sense._

"_What do you mean? I don't understand. I just left my home." Was it the tower he meant? Where else could my home be?_

"_Wake now, Beautiful, you must slumber no longer."_

"_Wait! Where are you going? I don't want to leave." I fought the feeling that pulled me away, that which would drag me from the fade and back to the conscious world. It was useless._

"_Wake…"_

Before I could protest again, my eyes shot open. A chill ran through me at the remembrance of the dream. It was as though I'd woken from a nightmare, but not.

A sound outside the tent caught my attention. The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves had me on my feet, scrambling for my staff. A bolt of electric excitement coursed through me accompanied by a tingling sense of fear. Something wasn't right.

As I slipped from the tent, I was surrounded by an unearthly feeling of dread. Thankfully I wasn't alone. Whatever was nearby, Firyn and Carver felt it too. They were outside their tents as well, armed to the hilt. The force remained unseen yet was slowly moving in on us.

"What is it?" I whispered to Carver.

Remaining alert, senses focused on the strange auras around us, he answered, "darkspawn."

The tingle of fear I'd felt before exploded into a firestorm of terror. I'd never faced anything beyond a few demons in the fade. How was I supposed to combat darkspawn? They were mindless killing machines known for decimating entire villages. All I had was an iron staff and a bottle of lyrium. Other humans, elves, even dwarves I could handle, but how does one reason with thoughtless beasts?

Suddenly, without warning, flames exploded to life from a vial of liquid Carver had tossed into the dying embers. The darkness once concealing the snarling monsters was banished. What I saw before me was unimaginable. Creatures of nightmares, covered in stray bits of bloodied armor, surrounded us. Rotten skin and razor sharp teeth peered through the gaps, dripping with corruption.

Armed with axes and bows, the creatures charged at us. Fear gripped me and I could scarcely breathe, less move. Before I knew what happened, Firyn was braced before me, taking the impact of the attacks. Not far from me, Carver swung a massive broad sword, lobbing off the head of the beast before him. I stood by; helplessly watching as they took down one darkspawn after another. Despite their efforts, the creatures' numbers dwindled little.

Firyn was becoming more and more fatigued, and Carver wasn't far behind him. I had to do something fast, but I couldn't center my energy on a single spell. This was not at all what I had expected. Things during the harrowing had been so different, so much simpler. In the fade I was focused, fearless… That was it. I needed to connect with the fade.

My thoughts were broken by Carver's frantic voice, "Andreina, we could use some help, healing, energizing, or maybe both."

Racing through the possible spells, I finally settled on one I had learned many years ago. The mass rejuvenation spell taught to me by the Gray Warden mage would suffice. Now that I had something to focus on and a way to do so, it helped me break free of my fear. I performed the spell just in time. Both men, with a renewed energy, fought back another wave of darkspawn.

That's when I felt it behind me. It was much like the feeling I'd had earlier when I'd first sensed the corrupted creatures, only this was bigger, much bigger. I turned to see the most horrid monster of the lot. It was a great horned beast, towering above all else in the camp. There was no time to think, no time to fear. I maintained a strong connection to the fade, and my body seemed to act on its own. My hands shot out in front of me and the massive beast turned to stone before my eyes.

The commotion had been enough for my companions to notice. Though engaged in battle, Carver let out a triumphant roar. As the darkspawn before him fell, he charged over, sword raised, and struck the petrified giant with all his might. The impact was tremendous as the great beast shattered into infinite pieces. I couldn't believe I'd petrified my first darkspawn, or that it was so monstrous. I nearly felt giddy again.

With restored confidence and newfound courage, I set to helping Carver and Firyn. Another rejuvenation spell and a quick heal had them fighting at full strength again. Using what mana remained, I shot a number of arcane bolts at the few darkspawn that were left. It didn't take us much to finish them off.

As the last horrid creature fell, I cast one last healing spell to patch up the men. Both had managed to avoid serious injury. Carver I had been less worried about, he was fairly quick on his feet and managed to dodge most of the physical attacks. Firyn was a different story. The way he took hit after hit left me shocked he was still moving, even more amazed that he was virtually unscathed. He hadn't been kidding about the armor saving his hide.

"That wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up in the morning," Carver said as he slung the broadsword over his shoulder. "I suppose we should pack up and get a move on it; this place isn't exactly the safest right now."

That was for sure. None of us would have been able to sleep again anyway. Instead we packed quickly and continued on toward Amaranthine. Firyn remained more than quiet, but I couldn't do the same. The morning's events had me too riled to walk silently.

"What was that back there anyway?" I asked, walking next to Carver so as to avoid disrupting the elf's quiet time.

"You mean the darkspawn?"

"I mean the really big one." I shouldn't have been surprised when he scoffed at my ignorance.

"The monster we decimated in only two strikes is known as an ogre. Consider yourself lucky this time, usually they don't fall so quickly."

"That petrify spell certainly helped, though I'm still not sure how I did it. I know a few nature element spells, but nothing that powerful. It drained half my mana." In truth, it drained more out of me than that, but I did my best to hide the fatigue.

"Who knows. Growing up one of my sisters managed to set her hair on fire once by playing around with spells she didn't know. I dumped a bucket of cold water on her head and she nearly clobbered me for it. I think sometimes you mages are more powerful than you like to believe."

I had to place my hand over my lips to hide the smirk that formed. Setting ones hair on fire wasn't very funny, but the thought of this towering brute being beat up on by a girl was rather amusing. Despite the light-hearted though, I still harbored the fear I felt from the attack. Even the few death threats I'd received at the tower were laughable in comparison to having a giant darkspawn in your face. It made me question why exactly we'd been attacked.

"Carver, do you know much about the darkspawn?" I asked him.

"That depends, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know why they came after us."

He was silent for a minute. I wondered if he was contemplating how much to tell me. I hated that everyone felt the need to sensor the information I was given. I'd already gone from being completely sheltered to killing my first darkspawn in a matter of hours; there was no further need to feed me sugarcoated fairytales.

"There are a number of different reasons why they'd attack," he explained, "I'm just not really sure which it would be. Lately there have been an increasing number of organized darkspawn assaults on small villages and holds. Usually that only happens during a Blight when the darkspawn are lead by an archdemon."

"But the archdemon was defeated, wasn't it?"

"That it was, by our king no less, yet unlike the other Grey Wardens in history, he managed to survive. "

"They told us that part in all the stories," I said, sounding disappointed.

"I suppose they would. Then you probably also know this last Blight was considered ended before it ever began. Not to mention, if there's another one beginning now, none in history have ever been so close together. Of course, with rumors of the Architect still afoot, it's possible another Old God has been awakened. I can't believe they didn't destroy him when they had the chance."

"So, you think this is another Blight?"

"Either that, or something else is leading them. Now that we have a number of darkspawn running about that think for themselves, it is completely possible."

"That's a frightening presumption."

"And you haven't even met the talking ones yet," he informed me.

The entire idea of talking darkspawn sent chills down my spine. I hoped I'd never have to actually meet one. It was bad enough that I could feel their presence; I didn't need to hear them as well

"Is it normal, being able to sense them?"

He let out a heavy sighed before answering. "For the Grey Warden it is," he said, sounded unsure of his words, "but I can't say if it is for you. It's probably safe to assume you posses at least a portion of the taint in your blood, which is how we can feel them. It's usually accompanied by horrid nightmares."

"I used to have nightmares," I admitted, "as far back as I can recall actually. There were nights I was afraid to go to sleep. It took me years to learn to cope with them. Then a few years ago they stopped completely. All my dreams since have been nearly the same and hauntingly serene."

"I've never heard of that before, but, there again, you're not technically a Grey Warden either."

He was right; I wasn't a Grey Warden, at least not conventionally. I was something different entirely, something unheard of. Nothing that happened to me was exactly normal, it never had been. My blood was "special", my powers were "exceptional", people were frightened of me, not for what I'd done, but for what they were afraid I could do. I grew up being considered unpredictable, despite my actions. Most feared I'd either suddenly drop dead one day from the taint or become an abomination. Thus far neither has happened, and likely never will.

Regardless of what many thought, I was probably one of the least dangerous mages in the circle. I took the chantry's view on magic very seriously. The rules were in place not only to protect non magic users, but to protect us as well. It was a shame that we needed to be locked away in a tower; however it was the only sure way to keep the truly dangerous mages from wreaking havoc. I was one of the few who actually understood that, yet it didn't save me from undue persecution, even within the circle. From the moment I arrived, there wasn't a mage who would train me unless at least three templars were present. Ever since I can remember, I've had a personal guard watching me day and night.

The first guard I remember was Sir Darrien. We didn't like each other early on. To him I was just an annoying little kid and he felt it was an understatement of his abilities to be stationed as a child's guard. I just thought he was a grumpy templar who didn't know how to have any fun. The turning point was when a fanatic enchanter tried to kill me and Darrien was there to stop him. After that we seemed to understand one another better. He became like an older brother to me, teaching me more about honor and duty then the circle ever would, and being there for me to talk to when I had no one else. I kept nothing from him, and he tried to share everything with me in a way I could understand. The only secret he had was his addiction to lyrium. As the years went on, he became distant to the world. When I turned sixteen he finally told me why he was not himself. The more he tried to overcome his dependence, the worse things became. Within months his delusions were so bad they had to take him away.

I was devastated by the loss and had not but an hour to morn before a new guard was knocking at my door. With a sniffle, I opened it revealing a dark haired templar. Erik's first words to me were that I was too beautiful to cry. From that moment on it seemed his mission was to keep a smile on my face, which he became quite good at over time. He became my best friend, and though we were never truly in love, the physical attraction and constant flirtation lead to our inevitable trysts that would have continued had I not left the circle.

All of it was for the better, though. Amaranthine would hopefully give me a new start. No one there really knew me other than the Wardens. I could probably even do something to help people. That was my new goal. I'd start over in Amaranthine, work with the Wardens, maybe even discover what I truly was, and assist those in need of my skills. It sounded like a solid plan, so long as destiny didn't creep its way in and hand me an unexpected fate yet again.


	5. The Commander

Vigil's Keep. It stood before me, seemingly eternal and unbreakable. The nearly impenetrable walls of the fortress appearing preserved even from the torment of time itself. Light from the afternoon sun reflected against pale stone, illuminating the structure against the darkened slopes beyond, like a beacon of hope in a time of despair. I couldn't picture a better home for Ferelden's Grey Wardens.

Beyond the gate, soldiers patrolled the grounds. I was surprised to see so many people bustling about. Merchant shops dotted the area, not unlike the market places in the cities I'd read about. There was everything from fruits and breads to weapons and supplies. Some merchants even specialized in things like enchantments. Nobles dressed in their elaborate garb wandered from shop to shop, sparing no expense. Messengers and maids dashed about hurried to fulfill their orders. Knights sat back with their pints at a makeshift tavern. It was enough for a girl to get lost in.

That's when it caught my eye, the gleaming Silverite armor set displayed at the entrance of one of the shops. Its shapely contours were smooth and flawless. The surface was polished as bright as the sun. A pale tint of blue seemed to almost glow from the armor itself. I could feel the strength of the lyrium infused into the light metal. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen. With a wave to my companions, I entered the shop.

The man who appeared to be in charge of the trading was preoccupied with a potential customer, so I took it upon myself to find the armor smith. The area wasn't very big so I didn't need to look far. Near the back of the shop there was an older bald man examining more armor for any imperfections. Surely he had to be the man I was looking for.

"Excuse me," I said loud enough for him to hear while trying not to startle him, "are you the one who made that lyrium infused Silverite set out there?"

Despite my efforts, the man was surprised by my presence. He looked at me with confused interest before answering, "Well, of course I made it. Do you see any other artists around here?"

"I suppose not," I answered with a polite smile. I really couldn't argue the armor was a brilliant work of art after all. "It's a beautiful piece, ingenious and finely crafted, if I may say so. What gave you the idea to infuse Silverite with lyrium?"

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile under his grey mustache. "Finally," he exclaimed, "a youth with an appreciation for the finer points of my work. The lyrium infusion, my dear, came when an ex-templar approached me with his concerns about lyrium dependence. He wanted something that would reduce the amount of lyrium he found necessary to consume. The armor gives the wearer an increase to their magic abilities without the need for an actual dose of lyrium. Poor fool, though, he was slaughtered by darkspawn before it was finished."

"Fascinating, I think I may have a use for something like that." If there was a way to get this armor to the templars of the chantry it could eliminate their need for lyrium entirely. It would hurt the lyrium trade, but it would break the chantry's hold on its soldiers. That and she wouldn't have to lose Erik as she did Ser Darrien. "Could you make more?"

"Absolutely, however, I'd need some rare ingredients that I cannot obtain from here."

"Wade," a voice called from a few yards away. It was that of the other man who ran the shop. I could tell his polite mannerism was somewhat forced. I don't think he wanted to deal with me unless I had coin to spend. "Leave the nice lady alone and get back to work."

"Oh, Herren, you never allow me any fun," Wade complained. "Can't I enjoy her company a bit longer? The girl has an eye for well crafted armor."

"It's alright, Wade," I assured him, "I'll stop back to talk again soon. If you have a list, I could try to gather those materials you need."

"Oh, splendid!" he cheered excitedly. "Here's the list. For each set of armor I'll need a potent lyrium potion, wool padding, pure Silverite, and a sapphire. Whatever you do, don't tell Herren. If there's no profit in it, he won't allow me to craft the armor."

"It will be our secret for now. Though, I think there's a good chance you will gain profit from it in time."

With a knowing smile, I departed, setting out to find Carver and Firyn. I had abruptly walked away, waving them ahead, when I spotted the armor. If I kept them waiting any longer they'd likely leave me to fend for myself, not that I would complain much. Without a doubt, the soldiers at the tavern would be more than obliging if need be.

Just as I figured, they were waiting for me by the keep entrance. I hoped they weren't too perturbed by me being sidetracked. Carver seemed impassive and surprisingly patient. Firyn, on the other hand, raised his eyebrow as I approached. At least the questioning look was better than his usual bitter sneer.

"What's with you and armor anyway?" he asked as we entered.

"Does a girl need a reason to appreciate a well crafted work of art?"

He ignored the question as we walked through the keep. "You do realize you're a mage, right?"

Of course I knew I was a mage. What kind of question was that? I really didn't see how that was relevant to my adoration of the fine crafted protective suits.

"Are you suggesting I can't like armor because I'm a mage?"

"You can't even wear it," he argued, becoming slightly aggravated. It was slightly amusing to get such a rise out of him over something so trivial. I pondered his reaction to imperative information. Surely that would be a sight to see.

"I could if I wanted to," I told him defiantly, though mostly joking. "It would just have to be really light armor and I wouldn't be able to move very fast."

"That's enough, children," Carver broke in, "don't make me put you in opposite corners of the room."

Though silent, I rebelliously stuck my tongue out at Firyn who only retaliated with a dark glare. He riled too easily and, while I hate to admit it, part of me was beginning to enjoy it more than I should have. I had such an easygoing, carefree nature, and poor Firyn was just so serious about everything. Where I could just brush something aside, he would take it personal and challenge it to the death apparently. It reminded me of when I was little and Sir Darrien first became my guard. There was nothing we would compromise on, and I enjoyed nothing more than seeing him get mad over the smallest things. Eventually we were able to get past that stage. Hopefully the same would happen with Firyn. He seemed like a good man, if not slightly misguided. I figured whatever happened to his family had likely been a factor in his current state of being.

Before I knew it, we were waltzing through the entrance of the throne room. It was a large, open room with ample space. The men at the front seemed to be attending to some business just as we entered. Once they were finished, a young man, not much older than myself, approached us. Long dark locks framed his face, half pulled back in a leather band. Fierce, penetrating eyes the color of the sea held both charm and secrets. An inviting smile adorned his lips, slightly softening the strong planes of his face. The mysterious air about him didn't leave me any less at ease, if anything it only made him more eye-catching.

"Carver, Firyn, it's good to see you've returned whole and hale," he greeted the others. "I'd assume all went well?"

"That it did, Warden Commander," Carver reported before introducing me to the man. "I'd like you to meet Andreina, daughter of the Hero of Ferelden."

There was that title again. I preferred not to recall how it set me apart from the others. "I'd rather we put aside the formalities, just Andreina, if you would."

"Likewise," the man agreed, to my relief. "You may call me Baedyn."

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," I said, extending my hand. Rather than shacking it as I'd expected, he raised my hand before his face, lightly brushing his lips against my fingers. The action was a tell-tale mark or nobility, though generally reserved a women of the same stature.

"The pleasure is all mine."

His apparent boldness didn't extort the reaction he'd expected from me. Rather than appearing shocked, I simply did my best to ignore the gesture as I held back the blush that fought to rise in my cheeks. It was obvious he liked to press the limits, walking a fine line of danger, seeing just how far he could push a person. However, I couldn't tell if his actions were sincere or merely an attempt to seek a response from me. Either way I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of it.

As though reading my thoughts, his lips curled in a devious smile. I could glimpse in his eyes the recognition of an unspoken challenge. It was good to know things would never be dull with the Commander of the Grey around.

"Please, walk with me; I'll give you the grand tour," he insisted, signaling with his hand that we make our way forward.

As he requested, I fell in step next to him, relieved that Carver and Firyn were following as well. No doubt they already knew their way around, they probably only came with for my benefit. It's not that the commander made me uneasy by any means, but having the presence of those I knew gave me confidence should I need it. The last thing I wanted was to be caught off my guard in front of the most important man here.

"You'll have free reign of the keep," his voice sounded, breaking the silence. "As do all the other wardens. Any resources we offer are completely at your disposal. You'll find many of the merchants are quick to offer discounts to us as well."

The library he led us through was enormous, rivaling even the circle's collection. Though, I had a feeling the books here were much more interesting. Reading material censored by the chantry was less than entertaining, unless, of course, Andraste was your fascination. The books here might actually be worth reading.

"This wing houses the wardens' personal quarters," he explained as we stepped through another set of doors. "All senior members are provided with their own rooms, junior members are housed four to an area, and the recruits are bunked in groups of eight. I've made arrangements for you to have your own living space as well."

"Thank you, but that isn't necessary."

"Necessary or not, it's already done," he stated in a no-questions-asked tone.

So much for starting over new, it looked like things here may not be much different for me after all. Already I have my own private quarters separating me from everyone else. Next they'll probably have an ex-templar guarding my every move and personally escorting me around the keep. It seemed too much to ask just to be treated like everyone else. There was nothing special about me other than the ideas rooted in everyone else's imaginations. Fate was beginning to unnerve me.

My disappointment must have been overly apparent since Baedyn reassured me of my freedom, "there is nothing confining you to your quarters, of course. As I'd mentioned before, you have free reign here."

His words calmed me a degree, but I was still skeptical of the whole situation. Giving me the freedom to wander the keep and grounds didn't mean much if a guard was to be following me around. Then again, perhaps I was being a bit cynical; there had been no mention of a guard as of yet. I had no reason at this point not to trust him on this.

"Beyond the doors at the end of the hall is where I stay," he continued. "If you ever need anything at all you're welcome to come talk to me anytime. The well-being of those I command is of utmost importance to me. Though our numbers have increased greatly the past twenty years, the Grey Wardens are still a small group and I value each one of them."

"All due respect, ser, I'm not actually a Grey Warden," I reminded him.

"As far as I'm concerned you are. Based on how long you've carried the taint in your blood, you actually have seniority on most of the wardens here, including myself. There are very few left who were here before you were born."

"Very well, though I doubt others will see it your way."

"Girl, I'm the Warden Commander, they will do whatever I tell them to do."

His arrogance was something I'd expected to see sooner. Still, it was just one more thing to add to the list that was becoming the Warden Commander. Despite his rendered conceit, his words rang true. If he proclaimed it then it would be so. I had little choice other than to accept what he said. Of course it was still better than facing the whispers of the circle.

Baedyn showed us the rest of the keep before leading us back to the throne room. It wasn't a surprise that he had more business to attend to. I had questions for him, but, like many other inquiries, they'd have to wait for another time. The Warden Commander was a busy man after all, and my thoughts weren't exactly a priority at the moment. I'd just have to catch him when he wasn't in the middle of something, if that were even possible.

After he left I retired to the study. Firyn and Carver had disappeared to Maker knows where and I found myself not truly caring at the moment. The last few days had dragged on and it was nice to relax again.

I was curled up in a velvet lined chair when a middle aged man entered the room. His familiar face was aged from grief and regret yet the handsome features were still apparent. Fine strands of gray were intertwined into his blonde locks giving him a more distinguished appearance than last I'd saw him.

"Anders?" I raised a brow, curious.

The man gave an approving smile, "I'm shocked you remember me."

"How could I not, you were the first Grey Warden I'd ever met," the words poured out excitedly. "I half figured it'd be the last time we meet."

"Then you could call this your lucky day. I'm only here for a short time. I guess you could say my agreement with the wardens only extends so far."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, really rather perplexed.

"You heard about the occurrences in Kirkwall when you were still young. I was at the center of it you could say. The Chantry will not rest until I parish and there's only so much the Grey Wardens can do for me. When I found out you were to travel to Amaranthine I thought to make sure you made it safely."

I nodded my head as he settled in the chair next to me. From his pack he revealed a rectangular box wrapped in plain brown paper. It appeared to be the package Carver had picked up at the Spoiled Princess when we left the tower. I hadn't given it much thought and didn't expect to be seeing it again.

"This is for you. It's a gift on behalf of the Grey Wardens," he explained as he handed me the box. "Go ahead, open it."

I pulled away the twine and paper that bound it. Removing the lid revealed a pile of folded garments. They were elegant emerald robes trimmed in gold and fur. The box fell to the ground as I held the robes out in front of me.

"Would you look at that," the older mage smiled, "they're the same shade as your eyes."

"Anders," I protested, "I can't accept these, they must have cost a fortune."

"You'll have to take it up with the Commander; he's the one who ordered them made. I just thought I'd make sure they made their way to your hands."

"Job well done, I supposed." I looked over the robes yet again. They were beautiful, though I would have expected there to be more to them. "What in the world was the man thinking?"

"I've no doubt he was more than able to afford the expense. The man does have stature, estate, and coin to spare."

"Is there really so much to be had as Warden Commander?"

"Not as Warden Commander," he corrected me, "rather as the nephew of Nathaniel Howe."

"Yes, of course, Mother had spoken of Nathaniel a few times. She killed his father and he wanted revenge, but she convinced him to rebuild his family's name instead and they became friends."

"Right you are, though, it was a rather rough road getting there. Nathaniel had protested becoming a Grey Warden, preferring death over serving under the woman who killed his father. Your mother had him conscripted anyway. She claimed it was because we needed more Wardens, but I think she secretly wanted to torture him with the idea that she'd be his commander. Either way, she ended up helping him find his sister and realize the truth about his father. Once she gained his trust, they became close friends."

"When did his nephew become a Grey Warden?"

"About five years ago. The boy was barely nineteen and determined as hell to follow in his uncles footsteps and uphold all he'd worked for. You're mother saw something in him that made her appoint him the next Commander of the Grey. She trained him up until the day she left for the deep roads. Her hope was that he'd be the best Warden Commander he could be. I'd say he's more than proven himself worthy of the title."

"So I've noticed." He was certainly turning out to be an interesting man.

However, it wasn't the Warden-Commander that occupied my thoughts that night. Anders had been a fairly close friend to my mother and I had to know if he knew anything that would help me. "Anders, is it common for Grey Warden to have children?"

"Not generally, though we've all heard stories of such things happening," he explained as honestly as what seemed possible.

"How in Thedas was my mother able to manage it?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

I didn't bother trying to hide the frustration on my face. My hope was slipping as my questions continued to go unanswered, usually leaving me with even more questions.

Anders must have noticed my discontentment, giving up what little he knew, "There is one possibility. The months before word of your conception arrived, your mother spent some time in the Korcari Wilds with a witch called Flemeth."

"Flemeth? The Flemeth? The legendary Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth? I didn't think she was real."

"I can't confirm the legends, but the old woman your mother spent time with was a skilled sorceress with knowledge of magic older than the Tevinter Imperium."

"And you think she may have helped my mother find a way to have a child?"

"I can't say for sure, but it's a lead none the less, so don't look so discouraged."

"Yes, you're right. Thank you, Anders."

"Now get some rest. I imagine tomorrow will be a busy day for all of us."


	6. A Light Drink

"Get up, Mage," a loud voice boomed in my ear from the bedside. A groan slipped from my lips involuntarily. All I needed was five more minutes of being lost in the fade. Too bad ignoring the rotten elf wasn't working out very well. "Now! Up!" Firyn was nearly yelling this time. "The Warden Commander wants to speak with us, let's go!"

What could the Commander possibly want with us? I forced my head up from the pillow followed by the rest of my lazy body. I thanked the maker that I didn't sleep in the nude, not that Firyn would have been affected by it anyway. He was colder than winter itself and I doubted anything could change that.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, my voice groggy as I tried to clear my eyes.

"It's not as though you locked the door or anything. Now get moving," he persisted.

It was too early for me to have any patience for his attempts at superiority. I wasn't moving another inch until he was out of the room.

"I'm going! Would you give me a moment of privacy to dress, please?" I sternly insisted.

Realization seemed to wash over him as he stared at me, noticing that I was in my night clothes rather than my robes. What did he expect I wore to sleep? He tore his gaze away quickly, embarrassed, when he noticed he'd been staring. Making his way to the door, he calmed a degree.

"Of course, I suppose I should do that. Just join me in the hall when you are finished," he said as he stepped through the doorway.

With Firyn out of the room I had to fight the urge to lie back down. All that kept me moving was my curiosity as to what the Warden Commander could possibly want us to do this early in the morning. I quickly donned my newest robes, noting that they revealed slightly more skin than something I would have chosen myself, and I secured my pack at my side. I took a moment to fix the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen free of their band in the night before grabbing my staff and leaving the room.

Just as he said, Firyn had been waiting outside my door. As I entered the hall I secured my staff safely across my back. I looked up to see Firyn's eyes fixed on the floor. Lifting an eyebrow, I cleared my throat to make sure he knew I was there. When he finally lifted his gaze the neutral expression on his faced turned to a scowl.

"You might as well be wearing nothing at all." His voice almost sounded disgusted, but the tone felt almost forced.

"They're not really that bad, and it's not as though I picked them out myself either. They're a gift from the Wardens."

"More like a gift from the Commander so he'll have something to look at."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?"

He rolled his eyes at the accusation, the usual irritation returning to his voice, "In your dreams, Mage."

"Then I suppose you'll never know," I replied, effectively silencing him.

The Commander waited in the throne room. As we entered, his smile widened a degree. I couldn't imagine why.

"I see you received the welcome gift," he stated, not bothering to hide his obvious stare as he looked me over, head to toe.

"Yes, it's a shame you couldn't find something a little more revealing." My words dripped with sarcasm.

Baedyn laughed, bringing his hands up in defense, "I honestly didn't choose them for that purpose. They just happened to be the most powerful robes the tailor could make. I think you'll change your mind about them once you're on the battle field."

I certainly didn't want to think about being on a battle field in these things. All they would be good for is one hell of a distraction. With my luck our men would be the ones distracted and the darkspawn would slaughter us all.

"Enough about my robes, why did you call us here?"

"There have been reports of darkspawn near the city of Amaranthine and I intend to investigate them personally. I'd like you to accompany me this time. The field experience will be good for you and I want to see your skills first hand."

Just what I wanted to deal with, more darkspawn. The man did have a point though; the field experience would probably be helpful.

"Fair enough, just keep those nasty ogres away from me." The last thing I wanted was to meet my demise at the hands of such a putrid creature.

"Not a fan, I take it," he laughed eagerly. "Then you'll be disappointed to discover they're not the worst creatures we have to face."

"No one bothers to tell me this until now?"

"That's the Wardens for you," an unfamiliar voice sounded, just entering the room. I turned to see an amazingly well kept, red-headed dwarf behind me. Heavy black armor covered all except his head. A thick braided beard rested against his chest and a large battle axe was strapped to his back. "If there's ever anything you want to know just a little too late, you can count on the Grey Wardens."

"I see you've decided to join us, Gunnar," the Commander greeted him with a degree of impatience.

"Yeah, I couldn't quite imagine letting you go out there with only a mage and an elf to protect you. You haven't been Commander long enough to go dying on us already."

I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or to laugh at how irritated Firyn looked. Perhaps there was someone who aggravated the elf more than I did after all.

"Gunnar," the Commander addressed him, "I believe you already know Firyn. The lovely mage you've just so graciously affronted, is Solona's daughter, Andreina."

"Well, I'll be a nug's uncle, so it is. You look just like her, except she had blonde hair and wore more clothes."

I shot a glare in Baedyn's direction that he caught with a smile.

"You'll be thanking those robes when she's saving your hide on the battlefield," he assured the dwarf.

"All jokes aside, Kid, I look forward to fighting next to you."

"Likewise," I agreed, nodding to the short red-headed man.

Thank the maker; I'd have someone to travel with other than a grumpy elf and a somewhat pretentious commander. At least having Gunnar with would keep things interesting.

"As I was saying," the Commander continued, "we'll be leaving immediately for the city. It will also be a good chance to restock on any items not readily available here, and to make any upgrades to our weapons and armor. After that we'll be heading south to Denerim. The king has requested our presence to confer over the current situation the country is facing. If everyone is ready, I'd like to get this mission underway."

So much for relaxation, I'd just arrived and already the commander was dragging me away. It wasn't even as though I could protest either. The man made a valid point for taking me along. Sparring at the circle was a far cry from battling darkspawn. The experience would be helpful. I also had hoped to exchange farewells with Anders, though it appeared the man had already taken his leave. On the bright side, it sounded as though I'd be meeting the king. Mother had told me many a tale of King Alistair Theirin and I looked forward to seeing the great man himself.

When no one objected, Baedyn lead us on our way. The trip to Amaranthine was fairly short. I was more than relieved that we didn't see any darkspawn. A small pack of wild wolves was the extent of our combat. All that required healing was the weak bite Gunnar received before lobbing off a wolf's head with his axe. So much for the idea of developing my skills.

We arrived in Amaranthine at sunset. People still littered the streets despite the waning light. Merchants wrapped up the day's final transactions as they prepared to close for the evening. The numerous city guards remained vigilant and any suspicious figures there may have been remained effectively concealed in the shadows.

The constable met us with a smile just inside the gates. I gathered he was usually pleased to see the Warden Commander. He shook hands with Baedyn and escorted us through the city.

"What do you know of the recent darkspawn attacks near here?" Baedyn asked the man as we followed him down a crowded street.

"They've been surprisingly organized and devastating. We've only came across a few survivors, but most were eventually overtaken by the corruption. The creatures have been waiting for nightfall to attack, killing most while they slept. I've never heard of darkspawn doing such a thing."

"I'm inclined to agree, their behavior is rather out of the ordinary. Are there currently any survivors here I could speak with?"

"There is one young fellow who appeared to have escaped the darkspawn and their disease. The chantry offered him refuge, but he opted to stay at the Crown and Lion instead. You should be able to find him there; I heard the inn keeper gave him a decent rate on account of his recent peril."

"Mighty nice of him, I'd say. Is there anything else you think I should know about this young survivor?"

The constable thought for a moment before answering, "Just watch your coin, he may be a cut-purse, though I've yet to see actual evidence to support that claim."

"Thank you again, constable," Baedyn bid him farewell as we reached the tavern, "Maker watch over you."

Inside the small pub, men sat nearly shoulder to shoulder, telling stories and laughing with drink in hand. It was much more exciting than the dim, empty tavern on the docks of Lake Calenhad. The steins here never ran empty, kept perpetually full by the buxom serving wenches. There was a rare blissful feel to the atmosphere that contrasted the heavily dark and depressing circumstances that befell the town around it.

Baedyn spoke with the inn keeper about a room and secured us the last one. Then he wondered off to find the sole surviving man he wished to question. Firyn, Gunner, and I were left to our own devices. I was rather grateful for their presence. Being one of the very few women there and dressed in my all too revealing robes granted me a degree of lustful stares and unwanted attentions. It was a relief when my companions made a point of sitting on either side of me, keeping anyone from approaching me directly.

Gunnar had bought me a pint of ale and the three of us drank together.

"I don't' see how you two can do it," I said with a bitter face after taking another sip of the brew, "I can hardly stomach this stuff."

"It could be worse," Gunnar laughed at me. "Pa always used to tell me how good this surface ale was compared to what they served in Orzammar. He claimed they made it with dirt, or so it tasted like they did."

It was my turn to laugh, trying to imagine drinking a mug of liquid earth. I'd think it would be less than pleasant.

"Have you never been to Orzammar?" I asked, noting that he referred to his father's story rather than a person experience.

"There's no point in going unless the Wardens send me," he explained. "I was born on the surface and thus have no place beneath the stone."

"It's not like you chose to be born up here, it hardly seems fair."

"It rarely is, but things are better this way. I couldn't imagine living among those who don't want me there anyway. My home is Amaranthine and the Wardens are my family now."

"Here's to that," I toasted, knowing exactly what he meant. I'd lived my whole life in the midst of those who would rather I been dead than anywhere near them. Sure, I had my father and the First Enchanter, even Erik, on my side, but they would agree that every step I took was like walking on a sheet of breaking ice. Even the slightest move in the wrong direction could be enough to warrant my execution, or worse, being made tranquil. I shuttered at the thought. True, I wasn't completely sure how the Wardens would receive me, but it had to be better than how I was regarded by the circle.

"If I may ask, where are your parents now?"

He gave a slight chuckle as he told me, "Ma lives just outside Denerim now. She nearly disowned me when I joined the Wardens like Pa had done. We keep in touch now, but sometimes I think she's still bitter about it.

"Pa disappeared in the deep roads a year ago. He went with your ma actually. Solona's calling was rather early, but he refused to let her go alone. I don't think two closer friends ever existed. She announced her resignation and Ol' Oghren was right there telling her she couldn't have all the fun to herself. She insisted he stay behind, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed if he stayed 'Sparkle Fingers' would turn him into a nug."

I couldn't control the giggles that left me. "Sparkle Fingers?" I asked still snickering.

"It was Pa's favorite way to refer to Anders."

My giggles burst into all out laughter. "I'll have to remember that one."

As I regained control of my amusement, Gunnar noticed my nearly empty mug. I somehow failed to realize I'd been sipping at it the entire time.

"I see you finished your drink," he smiled with delight, probably as shocked as I was that I drank it all. "Are you up for another?"

I shrugged my shoulders; what was one more? It seemed like the more I drank the less I could taste it anyway.

"I'll get this round," Firyn offered coolly, speaking his first words since we arrived. I don't know which one of us was more stunned.

"Thank you, Firyn, that's quite nice of you," I told him appreciatively.

"Don't mention it," was his grumbled reply.

At least for a moment there he seemed nearly content. Maybe another drink would cheer him up a bit more. His constant conversions between kindness and anger were becoming rather frustrating. One moment he'd do something nice for me, then the next he'd be cold and angry for unspoken reasons. Whether it was personal or not was beginning to matter less, I just wanted to see if the man actually knew how to smile. No one could possibly be angry all the time.

That next drink went down just as quick as the first one, which lead to another and still another. After that I lost count of how many times my glass was filled, not that it mattered anyway. At some point I removed the band holding my hair back and let the strawberry curls flow over my shoulders and down my back. I was no longer concerned with the many looks I received. We were too busy having a good time for me to care much. A few times I even thought I caught a smirk on Firyn's lips, but every time I'd face him he'd look away.

When it became late, Firyn and Gunnar insisted we retire, much to my dismay. Hoots and howls arose from the other intoxicated customers as we ascended the stairs. I must have missed whatever it was that amused them. They seemed to be a very happy, friendly crowd though, all smiles and laughs.

Miraculously I made it up the stairs, being half carried and half dragged by Firyn. Even though he still refused to smile, at least he was being nice to me again. The ale seemed to help him unwind; in fact it probably helped us all unwind.

Once in the room, I sank to the floor with my back against the closed door. I watched as Gunnar arranged some blankets and a pillow on the floor before plopping down. He appeared to fall asleep nearly instantaneously. Firyn slid down beside me, resting his arms on his raised knees. I looked over at him, wondering again how he could be so kind yet so cold at the same time. The need for answers took over and my control broke.

"Firyn, why do you hate me so much?"

He turned to me with a look that may have bordered on apologetic, but I couldn't be sure. It was difficult to focus with the world spinning around me. I could tell, though, that the question didn't anger him.

"I don't hate you," his voice sounded steady in my ear, "I hate maleficarum."

"So do I," I told him, my voice holding a tone of astonishment that we actually had something in common. Somehow I had missed his implication entirely. "The use of blood magic is a horrendous crime. I have no sympathy for those who dare even dabble in its likes. It would not pain me to see maleficarum extinguished entirely if it were possible. They make a normal life unattainable for all other mages."

The elf stared at me in disbelief, as if unable to comprehend my words. Here I thought I was the one most affected by the ale we'd consumed.

"You don't practice blood magic?" he asked, still apparently unclear on what I'd just explained.

"Maker, no, it's dangerous and against the law. I would never dream of putting my life or the life of anyone else at risk simply for the sake of power. If I want to be stronger I'll simply exercise that which I already know. Not to mention, it would only make things more difficult for me if I did posses such power. There are already too many people out there who think I should be killed."

A mixture of relief and sadness filled his face. Something about the conversation pained him, but I couldn't imagine what it would be. I wanted to make it better, but I had no idea where to start. He'd have to be the one to open up to me; I couldn't force it from him. At least he didn't hate me, or so I think he said. Things in my head were slightly mixed up at that moment.

Tiredness overcame me and I couldn't fight it. I tried to keep my eyes open but it was useless. Usually it was the other way around, the waking world forcing me from the fade. I wanted to stay awake now, asking Firyn the many questions I still had, but my body and mind had other ideas. The last thing I could recall was resting my head on the elf's shoulder. Anything after that was lost to the night.


End file.
